


Game, Set, Match

by AnnisPekka



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Snarky sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnisPekka/pseuds/AnnisPekka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No summary, no plot, just a sex(y) drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Game, Set, Match

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the last piece of fanfiction I wrote before writer's block set in a few years ago, and also proof that I was (and still am) more interested in Ffiction than roleplaying (if my Donna RP account is anything to go by...)
> 
> I make no excuses for the existence of this pairing except to say that my friend Cruci is all to blame for inspiring me.

She could feel the iron dig into her back. It was no longer cold, her body heat had made sure of that, but it was still uncomfortable. She tried to move to the side, where the surface was smooth, but the bloody guy wouldn't let her.  
  
Donna made a fist with one of her hands. It was bad enough that he had spent the last two hours with his tongue down her throat, did he have to be so inconsiderate towards her? After all, she had LET him do it without complaining. Much.  
  
A few seconds later, he pulled her away from the offensive doorknob, and moved them both in the direction of a softer place. He was feeling lucky, wasn't he...? But she wasn't about to let herself be mauled by the perverted alien. If he wanted to taste more, he'd have to work hard for it. And Donna would make it hard for him. No pun intended.  
  
When he stroked her back, she smiled and pulled his hair. When he slipped a leg between hers, Donna pinched his asscheeks playfully. He didn't seem to mind much, since his only response was to start grinding against her. Donna didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad one, so she just went with the flow.  
  
Their bodies joined in a sensual dance, touching and coiling against one another. Gasps and moans came out of their mouths - though from what she could manage to hear, it was mostly hers doing the noise - in a primitive music that seemed to fuel the desire growing deep within her.  
  
Still standing, they slowly moved to the side, where the back of her mind said resided a couch. She was too far gone to disagree.   
  
The Master was an evil, sadistic man, but dam if he didn't know what he was doing...!  
  
By now, she was panting and her skin was both hot and cold. The goose bumps, nasty and sweet, were spreading from the base of her spine until the tips of her fingers. She wanted him to stop, but her body needed him to keep going.  
  
That wicked tongue was now following the trail of those equally wicked hands. Not two seconds after the thin fingers made the fabric of her blouse caress her breasts as it was unbuttened, a wet path descended. First one side, then the other. Her hands itched to help him get rid of the clothes. To take away all that existed between the two bodies, which prevented them from touching each other completely.  
  
A small, rational part of her brain told her it was too soon. Another, more emotional, told her to get over it and just enjoy.  
  
It was so tempting to give in to the latter.  
  
And easy, she found out. In the end, all she had to do was unbutton the top of his shirt and the gesture all but poured oil on the Master's already hot flames. In a flash, he unburdened her of her blouse, skirt and shoes, leaving her in her underwear and stockings.  
  
"Hey," she panted with a kind of mischievous smile on her lips. "Aren't you a little overdressed now?"  
  
He looked really hot, she thought stepping slightly away from him. Hair mussed, shirt half opened and if she wasn't mistaken, a very eager bulge in his pants.  
  
With a quick pull, the Master manoeuvred them so that he was sitting on the couch with Donna straddling him. "Hmm, no, in fact, I think I am just fine like this." His trademark smile came back as he wrapped an arm around her waist, the hand sneaking up to undo her bra.  
  
Donna trembled when she felt the cool air on the warm nipples, and even without looking she knew they were erect. She would've felt embarrassed, but the Master dove in to pay his respects to the dark tips and all she could do was throw her head back and cry a long moan that she felt by the way the body between her legs grew harder.  
  
Not wanting to lose the battle, she rested her hands on his chest and moved her hips teasingly against him. "Are you sure you're fine," she asked softly in his hear. "You seem to be quite uncomfortable inside that thing..."  
  
She would win, she was sure. But just in case, she brought one hand down and caressed his member through the fabric of his pants. And then rejoiced at the gasp he gave.  
  
He didn't seem to agree with her on that. With a growl, he pushed her up on her knees and with a strong gesture, he ripped the panties from her body. Oh! He was so going to pay for that. No matter the bruising, that was already a given considering who this man was, but those panties had been expensive.  
  
She held on to the back of his neck and whispered to him. "What do you think you're doing exactly? The cavemen act isn't as endearing as you think it is." "Oh really," he answered mockingly.  
  
Cupping her entrance with strong fingers, but not quite entering her, he whispered back. "Your mouth says that, but your body is telling a completely different story."  
  
His fingers were getting wet, Donna didn't need to be psychic to know that. She knew her words were not true even before she spoke them.  
  
And he knew it too.  
  
Donna could no longer deny the desire she felt at his touch. Nor could she ignore the need for completion, preferably at this moment, with this man.  
  
"Oh, bugger this!" She grabbed his neck and crushed their lips together. She didn't care about the smirk she felt in his kiss. She didn't care that the fingers that penetrated her were mocking her need for them. And neither did she care that when those fingers were replaced by a wider, bigger limb, she cried and shouted and begged for more.  
  
All she cared was that when she woke up a few hours later, she was exhausted and sore and feeling better then she had in months. And that the villain alien was right there, with a face that told her she was in for another ride.


End file.
